


Pictures of you

by Sys



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: M/M, mildy morbid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: Peter and Nightingale decide to go for a little walk?





	Pictures of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterwoman/gifts).



Being with Nightingale isn’t always easy. And it isn’t just adding another relationship on top of the ones that already bind us. It is also finding out what he actually likes. Most people I know talk to each other about their likes and dislikes. With Nightingale it is groping in the dark, and not the fun kind. Figuring out that he likes me (and me him) took longer than it would with a less complicated and private man. And I will allow that perhaps I could’ve given him clearer signs, too. But that chapter is thankfully in the past and has been for a few months now.  
Since then my main occupation outside my actual work and studies has been to figure out what Nightingale likes. Aside from being called Thomas when we’re alone. (I’m not doing that at work.) And to say the list is strange and sometimes downright obscure would be nothing but the truth. There are two times excellently suited for listening to him, shortly before he goes to sleep, and shortly after he wakes up. When he is not fully himself anymore - or yet... now I wouldn’t be stupid enough to challenge him to a duel even in the middle of the night. He’d probably win at self-defence even after he just woke up. But asking him questions... that’s different. And while he may have raised mild objections to the treatment initially, he has all but admitted that it tends to work in our favour.  
It was during one of those questionings that I obtained knowledge of a particularly obscure interest. And then life (in the form of another LC) got in the way. And due to another close brush with death I _almost_ forgot about it. Almost in that I’d thankfully put a memo on my main phone that reminded me to have a little talk with Molly who has been surprisingly friendly towards me ever since she picked up on my relationship with Nightingale. (I don’t ask questions. My life’s complicated enough.) In this case it was particularly easy. Although I’ll admit that I cannot recall Molly looking so mournful that she couldn’t join our outing ever before. I swear, just looking at her face, at her eyes particularly... if she’d wanted to, I would have invited her to come.  
When an opportune day, or rather, night, arrived, I decided to ask Nightingale to go for a walk with me. Being an intermittently concerned dog co-owner, he suggested taking Toby along, but I have mastered a look that tells him to forget any logical objections and follow my plan. (Only works when it’s about our relationship. I would love to use it to get him to teach me more advanced spells. But all asking him about that gets me is a week of overcooked cauliflower. For each meal.) And so out we went, and he didn’t even raise any questions about my backpack. Until we had almost reached our destination.  
‘May I enquire why you need a backpack to go for a walk?”  
I didn’t point out that he had thought to bring his cane for no real particular reason. Carrying it suits him. And I think he is aware that I like it. I _almost_ considered telling him. But if he keeps his preferences obscured, I can keep silent about mine.  
‘We’re almost there.’  
It only took him a moment.  
‘These things aren’t done anymore, Peter.’  
‘We can just tell any colleagues who ask it’s a Falcon thing. Waiting to hear back from a witness...’  
I love that short grin that he tries to conceal too quickly. Gives him a surprisingly boyish charm. It also informed me that my proposal was accepted, even if he still put up a bit of a fight just so he could tell me he did later, in case something went horribly wrong. The way I see it, if he doesn’t actually stop me, any outcome is our fault, not mine. He can put his foot down when he means to.  
‘Help me find a spot?’  
Following him was a bit like following Toby when he’s following a lead. I’ve got experience, keeping up with that. But I was completely unprepared for where we were heading. The headstones were old, but not ancient. It had never occurred to me. And to think that out of all the graveyards...  
‘Your family...’ I didn’t know what else to say.  
‘My family,’ he confirmed, tracing gentle fingers over the headstone of one Judith Nightingale. ‘My youngest sister was still around when I came back home. But she didn’t recognize me. Thirty years apart...things change. People do. If we eat with anyone, we should eat with them. The point of these picnics was to keep them company.’  
I was still reeling from the idea that we had stumbled across Nightingale’s family in a random graveyard I picked. And from the fact that he was still paying to keep all these headstones around. Every year, holding on to the memories... I got the blanket from my rucksack and Nightingale helped me settle it between the stones. Helped me to unpack our food. And settled comfortably against a headstone as if that was their original purpose.  
‘Sometimes I can hear them laughing.’  
I didn’t question how he thought he was hearing ghosts. I’ve had my experiences.  
‘Judy and Mary particularly were not quite as serious as you would believe if you saw them looking at the camera.’  
‘You had pictures taken?’  
‘My mother insisted. It was considered quite fashionable.’  
_People were always vain_ , Mrs. Edgerton, my 7th grade history teacher had told us once. _So everyone who could afford to had their pictures painted. Or taken, once that became a possibility._ I didn’t bring up the paintings. But pictures...  
‘Can I see?’  
Nightingale considered that. Carefully.  
‘If I may see pictures of you when you were younger.’  
It never occurred to me that he might care to. Or that he thought he needed to barter for them when he just needed to talk to my Mom to get every picture and childhood story he wanted. Provided he was willing to also listen to the stories of my cousins, second cousins, aunts and uncles. Alongside how she and dad met, wooed, and got married. Bartering for them probably wasn’t a bad idea.  
‘Deal.’  
I was completely unprepared for the way he simply reached inside his suit pocket. The state of the picture told me that it was used to travelling. Had been used to travelling for many, many years. He introduced each of them, earnestly. As if we might meet them tomorrow and I should know a thing or two when we shake hands. He looked pale, thinner still, than I would’ve imagined. And very focused. But there was also an odd ease to his shoulders, standing amidst his siblings as they surrounding their seated parents with the youngest (Judy?) sitting on her mother’s lap. I fortunately remembered that we were in public. So I didn’t hug him. Though I may have squeezed his hand.  
He was a little reluctant to let me take a picture with my phone. But I convinced him that we wouldn’t want his family to fade away with the way the colour quality was already deteriorating. When I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to take a better picture than any of the ones I’d taken, I scrolled through mine.  
It’s not that I actually look at my kid pictures often. But I like having them on my phone for the very reason that I can cut out the middleman if anyone wants to see what I looked like. Way I see it, pictures of me shouldn’t belong to my parents. Not that that’s the sort of fight you want to have with my mom.  
‘Look at you...’ He seemed suitably impressed. I _was_ the handsomest kid in the street, let me tell you. But of course you can’t actually say that. Which is exactly why I did. ‘I was the handsomest near and far.’  
‘I have no doubt of it.’ That’s Nightingale for you. You brag, inviting friendly teasing. And instead you get gentle agreement. ‘You still are.’  
For a moment I thought I misheard. But his smile told me otherwise. My boyfriend really had just called me handsome while reclining against the headstone of one of his family members. My boyfriend had just called me handsome, period. I regretted the setting. The food. The fact that I couldn’t just take him to my bed right away. But Molly had put some real effort into our picnic. And it would have been ungrateful to let it go to waste. So I edged a little closer to him instead.  
‘We should eat.’  
He didn’t need to be told twice... he really didn’t have _any_ qualms about eating amongst the dead and gone. I needed a few moments to be okay with that. But I need to stop watching Nightingale eat. So it’s best to try and eat when he does. For everyone involved.

**Author's Note:**

> This is solely my dear friend Hamster's fault. Well mostly anyway. Read a comment like "Ahaha, now I totally want fic about Nightingale's weird 100-year-old hobbies XP" and don't write something. - I decided to settle for just one, rather than the 5+1 format she suggested. Mostly because y'know... this one's definitely my favourite among the lists I found.


End file.
